


Stick to the Status Quo

by griimdarks



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: GTA AU, Gen, as do parv and strife, dont worry nano shows up later, how do tags even work omfg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griimdarks/pseuds/griimdarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GTA AU with a small twist called immortality. Cause main character perma-death is not very fun, lets be honest. Featuring Hat Films, Parvis,  Strife and Nano!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Skype chats with my friend donutcats turned into full-blown pre-exam procrastination. This one’s a slow burn. I’m not sorry.  
> This is also my first ao3 fic!

"Trottimus, have you _seen_ this bullshit?"

Ross shoved his phone in Trott's face, fuming.

"Christ, Ross," Trott muttered, pushing the phone back. "I got the snap too."

Smith was standing next to the dining table staring at his phone, and Trott could make out the distinct profanity spewing silently from his mouth. 

It was a snapchat, on Parvis' profile; one that had him and Strife, bottles of beer in hand, next to a duffel bag stuffed full of money and jewellery. Trott had the TV on, and they were supposed to be watching a Breaking Bad rerun, but no. 

"We interrupt this programme with breaking news, as yet another jewellery store has fallen victim to the spree of armed robberies overtaking the city." 

Fucking assholes. 

There was a board next to the dining table, with pictures of said jewellery store, maps with escape routes drawn in red marker. Smith delicately put down his phone and ripped it all down with decidedly more violence than paper and pen warranted. 

This was the third time this month; the third time that the duo had hit a store that the Hats had been scoping out. Everyone on the Network knew that the Hats hit jewellery stores. It was common knowledge. But these assholes had waltzed in and were literally stealing all the business out, right from under their noses. 

Maybe Strife could be excused for his misgivings, seeing as he'd only arrived in the city a month ago. He didn't know how things worked, and that was ok. The Hats were generous, the Hats allowed second chances. 

Parvis, on the other hand, had no excuse. Parvis knew what the Hats did, Parvis knew how the Hats worked. 

"Honestly Trott, I say we go over there and beat the shit out of both of them, that'll teach them to go after our shit," Smith said hotly. 

Ross perked up. "Can we, though?" 

"Guys, seriously, chill." Trott put his phone down. "We'll follow the plan. Leave this place, scope out the next one." 

"And if Parv and Strife get there first?" Smith raised an eyebrow. 

"Then we follow them home, and _then_  we beat the shit of out of them." 

Both of them grinned. 

"Nothing like the promise of wanton violence to get you two in a good mood, huh," Trott grinned. 

********

Being part of the Yoglabs Network had its perks. Xephos was well known, and had a lot of respect, making it easy for the Hats to waltz into an apartment block and request a room for a week on behalf of Yoglabs; a room with a convenient view of the next jewellery shop on their list. The lady they talked to eyed them suspiciously and they overheard her mention that "No one from that Yoglabs Network brings good business, and I have a right mind to throw those boys out." Later Smith gave her a wink and left two hundreds on her counter, and they heard no more complaints after that. 

Two days in, Chinese takeaway and pizza boxes littered the floor, and Ross yelled, "They're here!" 

Trott and Smith made a beeline for the window overlooking the street. The three of them watched as two hooded men walked into the shop, hands inside jacket pockets; then there were gunshots, people sprinting out like their lives depended on it, and in that rush Trott spotted them running out, too. 

Interesting. 

There were two ways to make it out of a jewellery heist alive. Method one: blaze of glory, and you take out as many cops as you can. It was the Hats' preferred method, considering Trott was a mean shot, Ross hit like a sledgehammer, and Smith had a way with the roads that kept them from a jail cell each time. 

These two must have preferred method two; blend in and run. They worked quick, and Trott saw them dispose of the masks and hoodies just before running into the crowd. Strife had the bag and was hastily shutting it, and Trott watched the two of them get into a silver sedan and speed off just as sirens began to sound. 

The Hats shared a look. 

"Where was that warehouse, again?" Trott asked. "The one where they take all their snapchats?" 

"Over by the waterfront," Smith answered. 

"Then we know where to go, lads," Trott said, getting up. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing stopping you from talking, sunshine," Trott said.  
> Strife eyed the shotgun and stayed silent.  
> "The quiet sort, are we?"  
> Strife threw him a glare.  
> "Nevermind," Trott sighed. "I thought we could have a decent conversation, conman to conman, but apparently not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hats should probably work on their bloodlust before it gets them into trouble.

The Hats had started a competition, not too long ago. Snapchats at each heist; Smith and Ross making duckfaces and Trott throwing notes in the air or swinging solid gold chains around his neck. The only thing missing was the fur coat.

Nano had picked up on it immediately, and she started snapchatting all her heists with Lalna. Trott would never admit it but there was something a lot cooler about her snapchats, considering they were coming from directly inside bank vaults and the occasional million-dollar mansion.

Then Parv picked up on it too; he was an ex-hitman, and somehow no one wanted to get paired with someone who knew how to break a finger in six different ways, until Strife showed up. Both of them had a competitive streak and suddenly there were selfies with chains and rings and Smith and Ross were up in arms about it.

But Parv and Strife's selfies were always in the same place; an extremely identifiable warehouse, out on the waterfront. There was an unspoken rule about staying away from private properties but, when it came to their pride, rules didn’t really matter.

Smith drove a bit more aggressively than usual and Ross, sitting in the backseat, was drumming his fingers non-stop against the back of Trott's seat. Trott wondered whether he should curb the bloodlust now or later, considering that there was a big difference between "beat the shit out of" and "beat almost to death".

Smith and Ross would likely forget this distinction seeing as they took each stolen heist opportunity as a personal insult, and while Parv could take a few hits and bounce right back, Trott doubted that Strife could do the same.

They reached the entrance to the waterfront complex; a miserable, rusty metal fence with a gate that never closed and a checkpoint that hadn't been manned since the nineties. Smith drove in slowly, the three of them looking for Strife's silver sedan.

"There," Ross said suddenly, pointing. The silver sedan sat half in shadows, but it was still rather noticeable, being the only thing not in disrepair. Smith pulled up next to it and they got out, Ross pulling out his usual baseball bat and Trott's prized shotgun. Smith kept his handguns on his person; these he pulled out and twirled around his finger.

"Maybe we should snapchat this," he suggested, smirking.

Ross and Trott shared a look.

"Let’s be real, the only person who would maybe appreciate that would be Sips," Trott said.

"I mean, I know you're pinning after the guy, but something like that would be a bit, I dunno, obvious," Ross shrugged.

Smith spluttered, nearly dropping the guns.

"And a bit crass," Trott added.

Smith glared at both of them. "I meant, we snapchat hunting these two-" he jerked a thumb at the warehouse. "-down. I'd like to see Nano compete with a second-by-second beatdown. Two birds, one stone."

"Nano would probably find a way, and she'd probably do it better," Trott muttered.

"It's the tattoos," Ross sighed, a little mournful. "Everything she does becomes a million times cooler because of the tattoos."

Smith made a face. "Ok, that’s a fair point, but tattoos aside, are we gonna beat the shit out of these two or not?"

The warehouse door was wide open, and Trott sighed. "Seriously though, sometimes I worry about you two. You should not be this excited about rampant violence-" he blinked; Ross and Smith were already inside. Trott rolled his eyes, and ran in to catch up.

The warehouse still had shelves lining its floor. Said shelves were draped with cobwebs and dust, and the occasional mouse skittered past, spooked by their footsteps. The lights were out but there was a glow from inside, a phone light or a torch; peals of laughter drifted from the direction of the light.

Ross hoisted his bat, Smith held a handgun at the ready and Trott gripped his shotgun.

Parvis and Strife had cleared out some of the shelves, piling them around and giving the Hats more places to hide. A rookie mistake, especially from a hitman; they must not have factored in surprise visitors. Parv was closest, his back turned to them and Strife stood opposite him, his attention on their spoils.

Ross made a move.

The crack of bat on bone echoed around the warehouse. Parv cried out and toppled over. Strife snapped his head up, already reaching for a weapon, but both Smith and Trott had guns trained on him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Trott said cheerfully. Strife gave him a look, and his hand closed around the handle of his gun; Smith flicked off the safety and aimed it at Strife's head.

"Seriously, I wouldn't do that. You've got a decent face, and a gunshot to the head would do you no favours." Trott said, taking aim alongside Smith.

Strife dropped the gun he had grabbed and shoved it away from him, slowly raising both hands into the air.

Ross circled Parvis, bat held high, and Parv started to get up. Smith moved to aim at Parv instead and Parv abandoned the idea, throwing them both a disgusted look.

"So," Trott said casually. "Hitting jewellery stores, are we?"

Strife said nothing.

"Nothing stopping you from talking, sunshine," Trott said.

Strife eyed the shotgun and stayed silent.

"The quiet sort, are we?"

Strife threw him a glare.

"Nevermind," Trott sighed. "I thought we could have a decent conversation, conman to conman, but apparently not."

Parv made a move; he leapt up, kicking the gun out of Smith's hand. He barely sidestepped Ross' bat - if that had hit, Trott imagined his ribs would have been in a state - but he didn't avoid the punch Smith threw. It sent him sprawling onto the concrete, and Ross delivered a kick that made Trott wince and Strife gasp in horror, before delicately nudging Parv onto his back and putting his foot square on Parv's chest.

Strife looked at Trott. "A 'decent conversation'," he said, barely keeping the contempt out of his voice.

"Parv's not part of this conversation," Trott shrugged. Smith retrieved his gun and came to stand next to Trott; Strife threw him a look you might expect from a deer facing a wolf.

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Trott threw Parv a dirty look. "You've been hitting jewellery stores lately. And I suppose it's not your fault, considering you've been here for what, a month?"

"Month and a half," Strife muttered.

"There we go, see, not a lot of time. You don't know how things work around here. But see, we're a generous sort, aren't we, Smith?"

"So generous," Smith had a grin that was all teeth.

"Ross?"

"Incredibly so," Ross smiled innocently, like he hadn't just broken ribs.

"So rather than beat it into you, like we're going to do to Parv, we're going to gently explain how it all works," Trott finished.

"Wow, it's like your kindness knows no bounds," Strife said, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"I know! We're so kind. We're probably the kindest people here," Trott gushed.

Parv let out out a snort.

"In fact, because we're so kind, we're going to ask you for that bag you've got, rather than take it off you," Trott said.

Strife raised an eyebrow. "And if I say no?"

Smith took a step towards Strife, and Trott held up hand. Smith stopped; instead, Ross put a lot more weight on the foot on Parv's chest. Parv started to gasp, then cough, then choke. Trott eyed the scene, fretting a bit, don't actually kill him Ross, just apply enough pressure to make Strife squirm.

And it didn't take much, either. A minute or so and Strife stood up.

"Enough. You can have the bag, just leave him alone," there was an edge to Strife's voice, but he still kicked the bag towards them.

"Ross," Trott said. Ross pushed down a bit harder before lifting his foot off and Parv rolled over, gasping for air.

Smith and Trott walked closer, and Trott knelt down to inspect the bag.

"It's so good to meet a cooperative thief, you know," Trott flashed him a smile.

Smith took a step forward and grabbed Strife by the collar.

"Yeah, so Smith and Ross were pretty cut up about you two stealing our business," Trott added. "I lied about that part, earlier. About them not hurting you. Whoops."

Watching Ross go for Parv was a lot easier than watching Smith go for Strife, Trott thought. Parv had that look in his eye, like he'd been through worse, but Strife looked so...delicate, comparatively. Smith wasn't going to go easy and Trott really wasn't keen to watch. Instead, he opened the bag, flicking through the mix of cash and jewels. They'd managed to grab a lot in two minutes, and Trott had to marvel at that.

He heard the sound of a knee hitting a stomach, followed by a fist to the nose, and winced; poor Strife. Trott almost felt sorry for the guy.

But the gasp of pain that followed sounded a lot like Smith.

Trott turned to see Smith backing away, doubled over and holding his nose. By the time he reached for his gun Strife was already there, yanking him upright by the collar; Trott didn't see the knife but he felt it press into his neck and hissed.

"You guys were just so nice to me, and I felt like I should repay you somehow," Strife said.

"You've got an interesting way of showing it," Smith muttered. It sounded like his nose was broken.

"Well, seeing as I'm new, you guys were so kind to show me just how things like that worked around here," Strife said cheerfully.

Trott squirmed, trying to tug himself free; Strife simply tightened his grip and said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Ross had reached Smith by now and had pulled out his spare gun. Strife tsked.

"Seriously?" He said. "You're gonna try that?"

"I don't think you can," Smith sneered. "I don't think you have it in you."

Strife simply raised an eyebrow, and now it felt like Strife was cutting skin. Judging by the way Ross dropped the gun, Trott figured he was.

"Oh, don't freak out, I barely grazed the skin," Strife said, nonchalant. "Parv? You ok?"

Parv pushed himself upright, swaying a bit. "Yep, yep I'm fine." There was a thin line of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and Parv wiped it away, frowning at its presence.

"Anyway," Strife continued. "You've been so generous, but Parv and I should really make a move."

Parv picked up the bag and Trott's gun, giving Smith and Ross the sweetest smile and aiming said gun at them. Strife started dragging Trott back the way they came, and after a couple of minutes, Parv followed.

They made it outside and Trott was considering an elbow to Strife's ribs and running when Strife hissed, "Ok, now what? Do we leave him?"

Parvis paused. "No way, do you have any idea how great of a bargaining chip this is? They would literally give us all their money, all their territory, and the Hat Flat for him. Trust me."

Strife shrugged at that.

It's now or never, Trott thought. He slammed a bony elbow into Strife's side; Strife gasped and let go, and that was all Trott needed. He made a break for the warehouse. Parv lunged for him and he sidestepped, but then Parv kicked out, his foot hitting Trott's ankle and Trott was falling. Parv twisted his arms behind his back with more force than was entirely necessary, in Trott's opinion, and Strife procured a piece of rope that he looped around his wrists.

"You didn't expect me to come quietly, did you?" Trott kept struggling.

"There are ways of keeping you quiet," Parv said, somewhere behind him. He heard a car door open, and it sounded like Parv was looking for something - don't find it, Trott prayed silently. Take your time, let Smith and Ross come out. And then we'll play.

Strife had finished tying his wrists and hauled him upright, shoving him into the back seat. Parv was pulling a seat belt on and Strife got into the front seat and sped off.

Trott twisted in his seat, watching the warehouse entrance intently; any second now, Smith and Ross would come out, and Strife had nothing on Smith's driving. They would catch up in no time, and these two were no match for the Hats.

"I handcuffed them both to a railing," Parv said cheerfully, when he saw where Trott was looking. "They'll be a while, I imagine."

"Smith can pick locks," Trott said.

"Good thing I handcuffed him to two different railings then," Parv replied.

"Where did you get handcuffs from?" Strife said absently.

"When you've been in the business as long as me, Strife," Parv began.

"We're the same age, and I started cons long before you were a hitman," Strife pointed out.

"You learn some pretty good tricks," Parv continued as if Strife hadn't said anything. "I'll teach them to you,"

Strife snorted.

"In fact," Parv said. "I'll teach you both a trick right now." He reached under the seat. "Its called, 'How to keep your hostages quiet'."

"Parvis," There was a note of warning in Strife's voice. "You can't break his jaw." He said it like he was telling a toddler they couldn’t eat another piece of candy.

"I wasn't gonna break his jaw," Parv pouted.

"Or his neck."

"Well, even if I _did_ , which I _wasn't_ -” Strife rolled his eyes at that. “He'd just wake up in a couple of hours anyway." Parv finished.

"Let's not break anything, guys, how about that?" Trott suggested weakly.

Parv threw him a dirty look. "Should've told Ross that before he started swinging.”

********

The blood running down Smith's nose had reduced to a trickle, one that made him wrinkle his nose. If only he had a hand free to wipe away the bloody mess that was his face, but Parv had cuffed one hand to a railing and the other to a grate on the floor, and no matter how much Smith tugged and pulled, all he succeeded in doing was chafing his wrists.

Ross was similarly handcuffed to another grate but Parv had left one hand free; Ross squirmed, pulling out his phone from a back pocket.

"I still don't understand why he cuffed both my hands!" Smith exclaimed. "I could have picked the locks if I had a hand free."

"Maybe you shouldn't have snapchatted that video of you picking all those locks the other day," Ross said dryly.

"Oh, so it's my fault, then?"

"Yeah, yeah it is!" Ross put the phone to his ear. "I'm calling Sips," he added.

"Put him on speaker," Smith said.

"Should I put him on video, too?" Ross asked sarcastically. "I suppose you _want_ him to see you all chained up, you kinky- oh, hey Sips! One sec," Smith stuck his tongue out while Ross tapped a button, and Smith could hear the crackle that came from less that average reception.

"Hey boys!" Sips' cheerful voice echoed around them. "How's it going?"

"Good, considering we've been handcuffed to railings," Ross replied.

Sips laughed. "Oh dear! Are you sure you have the time to chit chat with me? Maybe you should pay attention to the person that cuffed you in the first place."

"Oh, I would," Ross said casually. "Too bad they made off with Trott."

"They made off with Trott?" Sips' voice lost its amicable tone, picking up on Ross' suppressed distress.

"Yeah, and left Smith and I in this warehouse. You know, those old abandoned ones? You won't miss it, Smith's car is outside."

"I'm coming," Sips said, all seriousness, and Smith could hear him grab keys. "Who did this, by the way?"

"They're long gone by now," Ross said. "But it was Parv and Strife."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, you two look like you’re in a tight spot,” Nano was no doubt enjoying their current situation.  
> “We were expecting Sips,” Ross said, after a moment. Smith just scowled in her direction.  
> “Oh, are you? Should I just leave, then?” Nano asked, nonchalant. Her smirk just grew even more infuriating when they both screeched, “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much dialogue in this part

Parvis' ‘amazing’ trick to keeping hostages quiet was, unsurprisingly enough, duct tape.

Trott rolled his eyes while Parv taped his mouth shut.

"Honestly, Parv?" Strife sounded as exasperated as Trott felt. "Duct tape is your fancy trick?"

Parv pretended to look insulted. "But-"

He was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing.

Parv and Strife shared a look. Strife pulled out his phone and handed it to Parv.

"Its Sips," Parv said.

"Put him on speaker."

Parv took the call. "Hi Sips," he said cheerfully.

"Oh, hi Parv! Where's Strife?" Sips's voice did not have its usual cheer to it.

Parv and Strife shared another look.

"Driving," Strife said. "Its on speaker."

"Oh, I see! And where's Trott?"

"News travels fast," Strife muttered.

"He's here." Parv said.

"Alive, unhurt, and all the rest of it," Strife added.

"Hm," there was silence on the other end. Parv was staring at the phone intently, Strife had his eyes on the road and one ear on the phone conversation in the back seat.

Neither of them were paying Trott any attention.

There was a lot of traffic today, Trott noted. The windows in the back were tinted but there was a constant stream of cars and one of them was bound to notice him eventually.

"I mean, I'm actually quite proud of you both for surviving and managing to grab Trott on your way out,” Sips was saying. "But I do have a soft spot for these boys. And Smith was really unhappy about his nose."

"Well, Smith was about to break _my_ nose," Strife said.

"Ross didn't break my nose, but he broke a few other bones," Parv added.

"So why would you take Trott?"

"Heat of the moment," Parv said.

"Insurance," Strife said, at the same time.

Sips was silent for a moment. "I can't fault that logic."

The car drifted to a halt, courtesy of a red light. Another car pulled up beside them, the driver's seat in line with Trott's window.

"We'll give him back," Parv said.

"When we know the Hats won't murder us in our sleep," Strife added.

Trott was squirming, trying to catch the eye of the other driver.

Sips sighed. "I'll see what I can do. Granted, you don't hurt Trott."

Trott felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find both Parv and Strife staring at him, eyebrows raised. Trott blinked as innocently as someone with their back against the window could be.

"Well," Parv said. "He's a bit bruised."

"We had to knock him out," Strife said. "Sorry."

Trott let out a muffled yelp that was much quieter than he would have liked. Parv cracked his knuckles.

At least he managed one good kick before everything went black.

********

“Sips _did_ say he was coming, right?”

“Yes, Smith, the phone was on speaker, and you were listening when he said he was coming,” Ross said patiently.

Smith frowned. “But it’s been so long since you hung up!”

“It’s been ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is a long time, ok-”

They heard footsteps echo through the warehouse.

“See? That must be him,” Ross said.

“Sips! We’re over here,” Smith called out.

But the footsteps that started walking their way were decidedly _not_ like Sips’ at all. Sips had heavy, echoing footsteps, soles clacking against any surface. These footsteps were light, airy, almost like the owner was walking on a cloud.

“Oh no,” Smith said.

They were not met with a stocky businessman in a suit, mud on his shoes.

They were met by purple jeans, hair pulled back by clips in the shape of peonies, and a smirk that was guaranteed to put them both in a bad mood for days.

“Well, you two look like you’re in a tight spot,” Nano was no doubt enjoying their current situation.

“We were expecting Sips,” Ross said, after a moment. Smith just scowled in her direction.

“Oh, are you? Should I just leave, then?” Nano asked, nonchalant. Her smirk just grew even more infuriating when they both screeched, “No!”

“I meant,” Ross said, with painful patience. “We thought Sips was coming to help us. Not you.”

Nano walked over to Ross, lockpicks in hand. “Sips was going to come, but then he remembered that he can’t pick locks. So he asked me to go instead.” The handcuff slid off Ross’s wrist.

“Thanks,” he said.  
  
“It’s nothing,” she replied, kneeling next to Smith. “Really, you shouldn’t have snapchatted that video the other day. The one with all the locks you picked?”

“Are you gonna help me, or not?” Smith looked like he’d just drank curdled milk.

“Depends,” Nano said. She fiddled with the first handcuff. “Where’s Trott, though? I don’t see him here.”

Sips must not have told her. “Um, that’s because he’s not here.” Ross said.

“What do you mean, ‘not here’?” The way she worked the lock was aggravatingly slow, and Smith’s face was steadily getting darker by the minute.

“I mean,” Ross said quietly. “They took Trott.”

The lockpick snapped in the lock.

“Why do you _think_ they cuffed us in here? So that we couldn’t follow them.” Smith snapped

“Well, why didn’t you say so before?” Nano shot back. She picked the handcuffs in a flash, and Smith rubbed his wrists. “We have to get him back.”

“Yeah, we know,” Ross said.

“We don’t need you,” Smith said. “We can handle this ourselves.”

Nano put her hands on her waist. “Oh, really? And how are you gonna get back?”

Smith gave her an incredulous look “With our car? Duh?”

“And who has the keys to that?”

“I do-” Smith went quiet. He patted at his pockets.

“Don’t tell me,” Ross began.

“They’re not here!” Smith yelled. “If Parv snatched my keys, I swear, I’m going to rip his head off!”

Nano sighed. “Just get in my car. You’re welcome, by the way.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do you feel?"  
> "Why do you care?" Trott shot back.  
> "Oh, I feel terrible!" Parv moaned. "I swear, Ross hits like a sledgehammer!"  
> "That's nice," Strife said dryly. "You already told me that. Multiple times. And I was talking to Trott."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this yesterday smh  
> SO I'll post this chapter and the next one today :'D

Trott blinked, feeling hazy.

The lights were too harsh, he didn't remember the Hat Flat being so overwhelmingly bright.

He was slumped next to a sofa handle - a comfortable sofa handle, one that was padded and everything. One arm was draped over it, the other was curled by his stomach.

Trott didn't remember the Hat Flat sofas being this padded.

He blinked again, getting used to the lights, and started to sit up. Someone had draped a blanket across him and it tumbled down, pooling around his legs.

He started to move his arm but the one draped over the sofa caught on something and refused to budge, making a sound like rattling chains.

Oh no.

This wasn't the Hat Flat.

And he was chained to a window railing.

"I think Trott's awake," Parv was lying across an adjacent sofa and Trott jumped at the sound of his voice. "I think he heard you talking about pizza."

Trott turned and Strife was sitting at the other end of his sofa, a macbook balanced on his knees. "Oh good, you're awake," he said. "Want pizza?"

The causal, "Want pizza?" was such a Smith mannerism and Trott had to actually look over and double check that it was Strife and _not_ Smith. And all that he could see on the other sofa was a mane of black hair; if Parv hadn't already made his presence known, he would have assumed that it was Ross.

"Um, pizza?" He said blankly.

"Yeah, I'm getting us pizza," Strife said. "How does pepperoni sound?"

"Pepperoni?" Thoughts were still hazy, ideas crashing into each other. How long had it been since he'd last gone without the Hats? How long had it been since he'd last been alone? "Meat lovers?"

The look Strife gave him was laced with concern. "I'll get one of each. And garlic bread. Do you want to lie down, in the meantime?"

"Get wedges too," Trott said, absently pulling up the blanket.

"Done, and done." Strife snapped the macbook shut. "How do you feel?"

"Why do you care?" Trott shot back.

"Oh, I feel terrible!" Parv moaned. "I swear, Ross hits like a sledgehammer!"

"That's nice," Strife said dryly. "You already told me that. Multiple times. And I was talking to Trott."

Parv pouted. "But Strifey,"

Had Trott been in a right state of mind, he would have jumped on the 'Strifey' train. Strife was all seriousness; dress shirts and neatness, even if he had a scarf looped around his neck and tossed over a shoulder. A nickname like 'Strifey' was guaranteed to grate on his nerves in a heartbeat.

But Trott was tugging at the handcuff, and tugging hard; the lights and the comfort of the sofa abandoned him and he was kneeling on a hard floor in near darkness, tugging at the bounds on his hands and failing to break so much as loosen them.

"They won't come, he's no use to us anymore," the voice said, from behind him; Trott turned to see where it was coming from but now he was facing down the barrel of a gun, and even though it was near darkness he could almost see the bullet start to move, move up the barrel and out with a bang and Trott was screaming-

"Trott? Trottimus!"

Trott gasped; this room was bright and well lit, and he was on a sofa, not cold concrete.

Smith and Ross had yelled that in unison when they found him; he stared up at them hazily, taking in the vivid sea glass of Ross' eyes and jade of Smith's, feeling Ross cup his cheek, begging him to stay awake-

Strife was staring at him with eyes that were greener than Smith's; he placed a hand on his shoulder and Trott appreciated the realness of it, even as he shrugged it off.

"I'm fine," he said, hoping that he sounded normal. Judging by the look on Strife's face, he didn't.

There was a mark on Trott's cheekbone, the slightest discolouration and raised edge, the hallmarks of a scar. He ran a finger across it absentmindedly, still seeing flashes of the gun. Strife stood up and walked to Parv, and Trott realised that there was a cat curled up on Parv's stomach.

He scooped up the cat with minimum complaints from the cat and maximum complaints from Parvis, and dropped the cat square on Trott's lap.

"I don't like cats," Trott said quickly.

"She'll love you," Strife said. "Trust me, it helps."

Trott raised an eyebrow. "Listen, sunshine, I don't mean to be rude, but you don't know-"

"I don't know what, exactly?" Strife had raised an eyebrow in return; he tugged the scarf down and Trott saw the faintest scar start from the edge of his collarbone, disappearing under his collar.

Trott blinked. The cat in his lap nudged his free hand and meowed.

"Oh," Trott said quietly, as Strife sat down.

Strife fixed up his scarf. "She wants attention, by the way."

Trott turned back to the cat, and scratched her chin; the cat twisted into his hand and purred.

"I find it helps," Strife shrugged.

"I'm more of a dog person, but thanks." Trott paused. "It was a gunshot," he said, by way of explanation. "Smith wasn't as good at driving, Ross didn't hit so hard, and I didn't come up with a good enough plan. And the people we went after were...unhappy. With me. With us. They wanted their money back, which they got, but not fast enough. So they shot me."

Trott wasn't sure why he was talking, why he was telling Strife all this. He hadn't even told Nano about this, and Nano might well have been the fourth member of the Hats by now.

Strife wasn't looking at him, either; Strife had his arms folded, and was staring at a patch of sunlight on the carpet.

"I wasn't as good at cons, back then," he said quietly. "I was stupid, I messed with the wrong people. So they sliced me up and tossed me off a wharf." He looked at Trott, a mixture of empathy and pity. "I can't take off the handcuffs, you know that, right?"

Trott shrugged. "It's fine, I understand. Besides, the cat kind of helps." He let out a humourless laugh. "God, immortality sounds so great in theory, but they never tell you the side effects."

Strife snorted. "I don't think anyone knew what the side effects were."

"I knew," Parv offered, from the sofa. "Zoeya told me. She said you'd still feel pain, and that it would take days for your mind to realise that you weren't actually hurt or dying."

"Lucky you," Strife muttered.

"Where was Zoeya when I got shot?" Trott said. "Would have saved me a lot of trouble."

"Nah," Parv said. "The last time I died, I knew it was all in my head. It didn't help."

"Delightful," Strife muttered. "Where is this pizza I ordered, anyway?" He reached for the macbook, and Trott shifted, wishing that the sofa would just swallow him up. He always did this, he chided himself. Sometimes he just wouldn't shut up. And he hardly wanted people he barely knew to know just how he died, and how much that messed him up.

Smith and Ross never fully understood how much Trott hated remembering, even if they stayed with him until he felt better, and never made him feel silly for it. Though Strife seemed like the kind of person who understood how painful reliving it all was.

"Is it coming?" Parv sat upright and winced. "Fuck, Trott, can you seriously tell Ross to lay off next time?"

"Sorry mate, but Ross is Ross, and Ross will hit as hard as he wants," Trott said.

The doorbell rang and Strife stood up.

"Strife, wait," Parv said, all seriousness. He stood up, pain forgotten, pulling a gun out of seemingly nowhere.

Strife nodded, picking a gun up from the side table and standing directly in front of Trott.

Parv tucked the gun into his belt before opening the door a sliver.

"Pizza delivery?"

Wait, Trott thought. The voice was familiar.

"Yup," Parv said, pulling out his wallet. "How much?"

He handed over the money, the delivery guy passed the boxes over, and Parv pushed the door shut with his foot.

Strife looked confused. "Wasn't that-"

"Panda?" Parv finished. "Yup! Sometimes he sneaks around as a favour to Nilesy, and he'll pass info around for personal favours. I texted him earlier, if he knew anything about what the Hats are doing."

Trott bit his lip, wondering exactly what kinds of favours Parv had pulled, to get Panda to pass notes.

"Anyway, he left us a note in one of the boxes," Parv continued, lifting one of the lids and procuring a piece of paper. "Let's see... Ok so apparently the Hats agree to discuss terms tomorrow, but they're not coming, Nano is."

"Nano? Who's that?" Strife asked.

" _Nano's_ coming?" Trott sounded agast. "And why aren't Ross and Smith coming?"

Trott trusted Nano enough, but he hardly trusted her with negotiating his freedom. And while Parv and Strife were lovely and all that, Trott would have liked to be back at Hat Flat as soon as remotely possible.

"Doesn't say," Parv said. "I can't believe they're sending Nano."

"Seriously, who's Nano?" Strife asked again.

"Why would they send Nano?" Trott was thinking aloud. A selfish part of him wanted Smith and Ross to come; they'd been around each other so long that Trott felt empty when they weren't around.

But Trott trusted Smith and Ross and they must have had a plan, one that involved Nano coming and not them. It was probably a good idea that they didn't come; Smith was both proud and a hothead and knowing him, he'd try and pay Strife back for that broken nose. Not something Trott needed at a hostage negotiation.

"Alright, ignore me then," Strife muttered, picking up the container of wedges. "I guess I'll meet her tomorrow."

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trott yawned, then tried to get into a comfortable sleeping position - easier said than done, considering one arm was cuffed past the sofa. He finally settled on leaning against the armrest, his cuffed arm half tucked under his head; it was oddly comfortable here, odd because Trott was a hostage, and kidnappers weren't supposed to buy you pizza, let you pet their cat, and crack open beers for you.

When the pizza was reduced to empty boxes and the clock ticked near midnight, Trott began to argue for a bed, but Strife's apartment only had two beds.

"I'm the hostage here, you two have to keep me happy, as far as I'm concerned," the cat draped across his leg gave Trott the perfect snooty air he was after.

"I bought you pizza, didn't I?" Strife snorted, arms crossed.

"And now I demand a bed. You can even handcuff me to it, sunshine, I won't mind," he winked at Strife, who took a step back. "Just so long as it’s yours."

"Ok, cool, I'm going to sleep now, enjoy the cold hard sofa," Strife left the room.

Parvis and Trott shared a look and started laughing.

"Parv, I'm serious about the bed!" Trott said, when they calmed down.

"I'm not handcuffing you to my bed; my bed is my bed." Parv's tone was firm. "Besides that's a really nice sofa and you won't even tell the difference." He yawned, plonking himself on the other sofa. "This is going to be a long night."

Trott felt a twinge of guilt in his chest; Parv and Strife were going to take turns watching him, to make sure he didn't pull any tricks on them while they slept. It wasn't like he could pick locks, and he didn't even have anything to pick the lock on the handcuffs with. Trott wasn't keen on the idea of someone watching him sleep, and Parv just looked so tired.

He remembered how quickly Strife had understood, how Strife gave him an extra beer and the last slice of pizza during dinner, and how Strife joked with him until the memories faded away.

Trott was getting soft. "Ok, how about I do you both a favour," he sighed. "I'll let you both sleep through the night, and I won't try any tricks. God knows you both need the rest."

Parv eyed him suspiciously.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow. "Want me to make it a pinky promise?"

"Alright, fine," Parv stood up, wincing. "Just so you know, any tricks and I'll break into Hat Flat and it’s Ross I'll go after, yeah?"

Valid threat, Trott thought. Parv did have a bone to pick with Ross. "That’s fine, but honestly. No tricks. I'll just sleep."

Parv gave him one last look.

"Goodnight," Trott said cheerfully.

Parv shrugged. "Either way, it's Ross on your head. Thanks, though, and goodnight!"

He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and Trott was alone.

He forgot the light, Trott realised. Said light switch was on the other side of the room, and he sighed. At least the blanket they had given him was thick, and if he pulled it over his head it would block out most of the light.

Trott yawned, then tried to get into a comfortable sleeping position - easier said than done, considering one arm was cuffed past the sofa. He finally settled on leaning against the armrest, his cuffed arm half tucked under his head; it was oddly comfortable here, odd because Trott was a hostage, and kidnappers weren't supposed to buy you pizza, let you pet their cat, and crack open beers for you.

He didn't realise how tired he was until he closed his eyes, drifting asleep almost instantly.

{ _The car seat was surprisingly soft against him and he felt like he could sleep here forever. But the hand on his shoulder had other ideas, wrenching him upright. The movement woke something up and the entire area erupted in pain, almost like it was broken. He was pushed against the wall of the car - was it always this rough? It felt bumpy against his back - and someone slapped him, once, twice, and the third time his eyes flew open and he gasped._

_ "Oh, he's alive," the voice was cold but so very familiar. There were three people here, but his vision was hazy and he could barely see their faces, let alone the hand holding him upright. "At least one of them survived the crash." _

_ Crash? _

_ He blinked, trying to clear his vision; beyond the three men he noticed a heap - no, not a heap, a....body? _

_ Ross? _

_ Ross was sitting next to him, just before, and now- _

_ Trott was trying to think, trying to piece together what was happening; it was on the tip of his tongue but each time he reached for it, it slid annoyingly out of reach again, and now Trott felt himself slipping away. _

_ "Is he any use to us if the other two are dead?" One of the figures said; Trott tried to focus on this voice, a weapon against looming unconsciousness. _

_ "Oh, of course he is," the first figure said. "Remember, he works for Sips." _

_Trott's blood ran cold; he remembered their deal, the rival gang, the chase - but unconsciousness had him now, dragging him under, just as he felt himself being dragged out, and he closed his eyes-_ }

Trott jerked awake, throwing off the blanket; rather than provide comfort the heavy fabric was suffocating him now. And it was so warm, he felt like he was sweating buckets.

He put his face in his hands, trying to compose himself. Breathe, he told himself viciously. Breathe in, breathe out, there's no need to freak out like this! It’s fine, you're fine.

He didn't feel fine.

After a couple of minutes Trott pushed himself upright, and to his utter horror noticed Strife by the door.

Trott was a quiet sleeper and a quiet sufferer, but not quiet enough, apparently.

Wordlessly Strife walked past him and into the kitchen, out of his line of sight. He heard a cupboard open and close, the sound of a tap, and Strife was back, a glass of water in hand. He approached the sofa slowly, like Trott was a timid animal he was trying not to spook - _not that there's anywhere I could run_ , he thought sourly.

Trott still took the water he offered, gulping it down.

Neither of them said anything, for a while.

Trott broke the silence. “I think I need to use your bathroom."

Strife unlocked the handcuffs, and Trott rubbed at his wrist, wincing while he followed Strife inside.

The bathroom was separate from the toilet and if Trott was in his right mind he would be bitterly cursing this fact. He made a beeline for the bathroom, Strife waiting outside while he splashed water on his face. Muddled thoughts aside, he glanced around for razors and found none; well, you couldn't say he didn't try. He heard another cupboard door and Strife was back with a towel, one that Trott immediately pushed his face into.

"Just dump it anywhere," Strife said, when Trott was done.

Strife walked him back to the living room and Trott held out his wrist with a sigh. The handcuff clicked back onto his wrist and Trott watched him slip the key into the pocket of his hoodie before sitting down.

"Did I wake you up?" Trott asked, staring at the floor.

"No," Strife replied. "I couldn't sleep, so I got up for water and saw you, and then you woke up."

When the nightmares were more common Ross and Smith constantly reassured him that he never made a sound while it happened, that he hadn't woken them up screaming in the middle of the night. But this was an entirely new situation and Trott was already reacting completely out of character. Screaming himself awake was hardly something he could afford to have affixed to his reputation.

But Strife seemed like the kind of person who would pretend like that hadn't happened, even if it had.

"Apparently they died," Trott whispered. "The three of us were in a car, they crashed into us and Smith and Ross-"

"They're not dead now, are they," Strife said.

"It was my idea, it was my plan to team up with Sips, and they died because of it," he continued, like Strife hadn't just said anything.

Strife reached over, as if to place a reassuring hand on Trott's shoulder, but he pulled his hand back at the last second, assuming it wouldn't be a good idea.

"You can't blame yourself for it," Strife offered instead. "They killed you, too."

Trott pulled his knees up, remembering the way Smith and Ross would hug him until he calmed down. "Does it matter? They still died 'cause of me," he mumbled.

Strife stayed silent at that.

The silence remained for a while, and at first Trott wasn't sure he wanted to ask. Strife seemed to understand a lot, and Trott could have probably told him his life story and he wouldn't have minded. But there were certain things that probably shouldn't be asked, nevermind Trott's morbid curiosity on the subject.

"Strife," he said quietly. "Was it....quick? When you died?"

Strife stiffened, staring at a patch of carpet, and not offering a response.

Trott should have known. Trott didn't like talking about it, either, so why should he expect answers from Strife?

"It really wasn't," Strife's voice was barely higher than a whisper. "It was so slow, and once I started losing blood it wouldn't stop. But in the end it felt like falling asleep. Sometimes I can't sleep, because it's too similar."

Trott blinked. "It was really fast. A literal bang. I think I came around fast, too, because I remember Smith and Ross finding me. But not much else."

"Well, you were shot in the head," Strife said.

"And you did get stabbed to death," Trott returned.

Strife offered a small smile, one that Trott returned.

* * *

The opportunity was right there.

Strife was curled up on the other end of the sofa, sound asleep.

Trott only woke up when something jumped on him, something with four legs that meowed.

He set the cat back onto the floor; he was used to snoozing dogs that took up all the space on the bed, but cats were not something he was ready to deal with.

Strife didn't stir, even with the clink of the handcuffs in the still air.

He'd left the key in his hoodie pocket, Trott remembered. And said pocket would be in reach, if he stretched for it.

Trott blinked.

He could snag the key. There was a stray cushion between them and Trott had a vision of holding it over Strife's face if he woke, holding it firmly until he stopped moving. A vision of undoing the handcuffs silently, and slipping out while Parv slept. A vision of hammering on the Hat Flat door, of Ross opening it and pulling him into a tight hug, of Smith literally picking him up in a hug.

Trott held out his hand, in the direction of the pocket.

He looked at Strife, blissfully unaware of what he was plotting.

He imagined the look on Strife's face in the morning, when he woke up to find Trott missing. Even worse, he imagined the look in Strife's eye if Trott had to kill him, and Trott wasn't even sure he could do that anymore. Anger. Betrayal. Mostly betrayal. Because that's what Trott would feel, if he shared all that was shared with a stranger, who then turned around and tried to kill him.

Trott groaned. He'd really made a mess for himself now.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Seriously, I am nothing like that nightmare of a woman, why are you always comparing me to her," Parv muttered.  
> “Some would refer to you as a nightmare of a man,” Trott said.  
> “She disemboweled someone in the middle of a party for insulting her,” Parv shuddered.  
> Trott remembered that night, because it was Smith that she had almost disemboweled. “Didn’t you rip a man from limb to limb?”  
> “That was part of a job, it doesn’t count,” Parv said, haughty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like a filler chapter I guess? I had to put it in cause the story didn't really flow otherwise so its a bit short, sorry :'D

Trott woke to find the sofa empty, a blanket tucked around him.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, started to push himself upright, when he heard them talking.

"Look, it's safer if I meet with her ‘cause I've met her before and I know how she is," he heard Parv say. Trott slid back into his previous position and shut his eyes, feigning sleep.

"Aren't you scared of her, though? Wait, don't answer that." Parv stuck his tongue out. "But I'm telling you Parv," Strife continued. "While you're off talking to Nano, I can guarantee that Smith and Ross will be knocking on my door." Strife spoke in a hushed tone, his voice drifting from somewhere past the sofa.

"Why are you so adamant that they'll do that?" Parv said curiously.

"Think about it," Strife said. "They'd do anything for each other, right? You assumed they would come themselves, if only to see Trott. But they're not coming, they're sending someone else."

"Hoping to catch us both off-guard," Parv added. "That's a good point. Though you could just take him somewhere else the moment I leave?"

He heard Strife chuckle. "Where exactly do I hide him? I only have this apartment and that warehouse."

"Good point," Parv paused. "Alright, you meet Nano, and I'll hide Trott, just in case. Apart from that, we'll stick to the plan."

"I'll make sure to be quick, too,"

"Easier said than done, to be honest. Nano will argue with you just to stall for time."

"If I can deal with you, then I can deal with Nano," Strife said matter-of-factly, and Trott suppressed a giggle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Parv said with mock hurt. "But anyway, you know where I'll take him, right?"

"I don't, but don't tell me. Just in case."

"Mm. Good point. Oh, by the way Trott, you can stop pretending to be asleep," Parv said.

Trott admitted defeat, sitting upright.

"So," he said, while they walked to to the sofa. "What's the game plan? How are you two getting rid of me?"

"Well, first we were gonna stick a knife in your neck," Parv said, matter-of-factly. "Then we were gonna dismember you."

"Were you going to meet Nano somewhere in there?" Trott said dryly.

"Oh yeah, she was going to help us dismember you," Parv winked.

"What's she like?" Strife asked. He was out of sight, and Trott heard keys jingling.

"If you can deal with Parv, you can deal with Nano," Trott supplied.

"Seriously, I am nothing like that nightmare of a woman, why are you always comparing me to her," Parv muttered.

“Some would refer to you as a nightmare of a man,” Trott said.

“She disemboweled someone in the middle of a party for insulting her,” Parv shuddered.

Trott remembered that night, because it was Smith that she had almost disemboweled. “Didn’t you rip a man from limb to limb?”

“That was part of a job, it doesn’t count,” Parv said, haughty.

Strife came into view, coffee cup in hand, a heavy-looking duffel bag on his shoulder. "Well, if Nano’s anything like Parv, I'll get myself another cup of coffee, then."

"You'll probably need it," Trott said. Parv directed a rude gesture towards Trott. "What's with the bag?"

"Nilesy's going to keep it safe for us," Strife said. Nilesy, apart from running a quaint little cafe in an alleyway, was also the person you went to to pawn off your spoils.

Trott raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were negotiating my freedom? The pizza was great, but I’d rather not stay longer than I need to."

"Trust me, we’d rather not keep you for longer than we need to," Strife said.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smith gets a bit too reckless behind the wheel.  
> Nano gives him a piece of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even gonna lie  
> But this was one of my favourite chapters to write

"Nano, it's simple, just make sure you get them to agree to handing him back."

It had been a long time since Smith last heard Ross sound this desperate; last time it was Sips Ross was pleading with, and a fat lot of good that did considering they found Trott with a bullet hole in his head anyway.

Nano didn't know that, of course. She put Ross' pleading down to the fact that they were more than brothers, more than family, and therefore rightly upset that one third of the Hats was missing.

Smith told Ross to ask Nano to negotiate on their behalf; if he'd asked her himself, she'd have replied in her usual aggravating, teasing manner, and Smith was not in the mood for it. Nano was nicer, more frank with Ross, and Ross wore his emotions on his sleeve anyway.

She hesitated when he asked, but Ross wasn't handling Trott's absence well. He didn't sleep at all last night - Smith knew this because Smith didn't sleep last night either, sunglasses hiding the bags under his eyes. Ross never wore sunglasses, though, and Nano was given the full hit of the exhausted and reasonably upset look that Ross now carried in his eye. Nano didn't stand a chance when Ross trained her with that look; Smith genuinely wondered if Ross realised the power he wielded in his bright sea glass eyes.

Smith was driving, as usual. Nano and Ross sat in the back seat, discussing what terms she should argue. At some point Nano had reached over, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Ross had taken her hand and was clinging onto it for dear life. Nano stopped, mid-sentence; she looked at Smith, concern in her eyes, but he gave her a tiny shrug and turned his gaze back to the road.

Smith didn't want to come off as clingy, or even worse, poetic; but not having Trott there was like missing a limb. Smith didn't feel like talking, all he wanted to do was drive, drive away, leave all his thoughts behind. He wanted to be alone, with no one asking him questions about how he was feeling because the answer to that was behind the sunglasses he wore. Ross on the other hand needed someone next to him, to just sit and maybe talk. Nano may not have understood fully what they were feeling, and while she barely filled the gap that Trott left, having her around was oddly reassuring.

But Smith really wished they weren't stuck downtown, Smith wished that they were on the open roads on the outskirts of the city, where he could just floor it and leave everything behind for a little while.

There was nothing stopping him from going, either; nothing stopping him from a nice long drive to clear his mind.

But Trott was stuck somewhere in the city, and Smith would be damned if he abandoned him again.

Reason told him it wasn't his fault; he was literally handcuffed to a railing. How was he supposed to help? But that tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered terrible little things, you left Trott just like you did last time - no, last time they crashed into the car, I hit my head, I didn't know - all the more your fault, then, considering you were driving...

Smith blinked himself back to reality. He rubbed his nose; it still twinged, but it was completely fixed, thank you immortality.

Sometimes Trott would lean his head against the window, glassy-eyed and absently running a finger along the mark on his cheek. Trott insisted he was fine, but Smith knew that he was back in that room, back at that moment before Smith and Ross ran in and found him. He never really understood the flashbacks because they'd never really happened to him - well, if this was what they were like, then Smith was almost selfishly glad he'd never had them before.

They were on the back streets, driving around in circles and figuring out their position before they made their way to the rendezvous point. The road itself was straight and wide, flanked by buildings on either side and interrupted by traffic lights at strict intervals. There were no cops around, though, and barely any people. Who needed to follow road rules anyway, if there were no cops and no people?

But Smith kept his speed under fifty and his car drifted along. Seriously, what was the point of all that modification, all those late nights where Ross cracked open beers, Trott held onto bolts and Smith slid under the car with a screwdriver between his teeth, if Smith couldn't even drive at a reasonable speed on city roads? Every traffic light seemed to turn red as he approached, and he scowled, wondering why the city was trying to piss him off even more than usual.

Another car turned into the adjacent lane; Smith paid it no attention until he realised that Ross and Nano weren't talking anymore.

"Guys?" Smith flicked his gaze up to the rear view mirror, where Ross and Nano were staring at the silver sedan, Ross with a look laced with anger, Nano with a look of curiosity. Smith frowned, turning his gaze to the sedan, and realising with a start that it was _the_ sedan, the one that Parv and Strife used at their last getaway, the one that they shoved Trott into at the warehouse.

The front windows weren't as tinted as the rest, and Smith could clearly make out Strife sitting in the front seat. He was alone, staring at the lights with the same, bored expression Smith had not two seconds ago.

The lights were still red and Smith had a fleeting vision of storming out, dragging Strife out of his car, and turning the situation from hostage negotiation to a hostage swap. Smith's nose twinged, and he bit his lip. Even if he did manage to grab Strife, he'd hardly be allowed to pay him back in kind for the broken nose and the bruised ribs.

Instead, Smith decided to do something a lot more fun.

Thanking the fact that the lights were still red, Smith revved his engine. Strife still wasn't paying attention, so Smith revved the engine again.

"Smith, what are you doing?" Ross said.

"Shhh," Smith, grinned.

This time, Strife turned to look; he saw Smith grinning and his eyes went wide.

"Smith," Ross said warningly.

"What?" Smith said, the picture of innocence. "I'm not doing anything." He revved his engine again.

Strife gave him a confused look before rolling down the front window, so Smith rolled his window down and said, "You, me, those traffic cones." He pointed and Strife followed his finger; four blocks down, there were traffic cones leading up to a "ROAD CLOSED" sign a couple of blocks further down.

"Smith, are you seriously going to challenge him to a fucking race." The level of exasperation in Ross's voice was hitting critical mass, and the incredulous look Nano gave him only made him laugh.

"Guys, chill, it's fine!" Smith grinned. "Just a bit of fun."

Strife blinked, then nodded, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

If Strife thought he had a chance of winning here, Smith was about to prove him very, very wrong. They were sitting in the product of Smith's blood, sweat and tears, of sleepless nights where Ross and Trott would just collapse on the sofa in a garage while Smith downed energy drinks like water. Twin V8 engines that Sips procured one evening and Smith was so happy he picked the older man up and spun him around; custom rims and an ostentatious paint job, green with black stripes, that had Smith skipping like a toddler in a toy shop.

"That cost us _how much_?" Trott had yelled. Smith ignored him completely.

But more importantly, his car was all curves and low to the ground, so it was _fast_. All of Smith's cars followed that theme; the others were a lot plainer and easier to blend into city traffic. He used those for the heists, he didn't mind those getting a bit beat up. But this one, this one was special. This was the one Smith took out on long drives, this was the one that went from zero to sixty in two seconds flat. Strife's shitty silver sedan had _nothing_ on Smith's ride.

There was a lone pedestrian walking in front of them and throwing them both dirty glares, considering both of them were now revving their engines. _Oh, fuck off_ , Smith thought. _This isn't about you._

The pedestrian light was flashing red and Smith and Strife shared a look. Smith started burning rubber now, because any second now, the light would turn...

The traffic lights in front of them flicked to green, and Smith lifted his foot off the brake, slamming it onto the accelerator. His car flew past the intersection, twin engines roaring, a cloud of burnt rubber left in its wake.

He heard Nano say something, her words lost in screeching tires, and he heard Ross laugh. Ross was such a happy person, Ross always laughed, and Smith hadn't heard him laugh since Trott had been taken.

Smith smiled.

True enough, Strife couldn't keep up, his sedan slowly inching backwards. Smith's smile turned into a grin and he laughed, buildings and parked cars blurring into splashes of colour in the corner of his vision.

It was the speed, the feeling of hurtling forward, worries and fears left in the dust. Wind ripped through hair and his heart was a sledgehammer in his chest and Smith truly felt alive.

The cones were coming up fast and Smith put his attention back on the road. Two blocks to stop when his speed was topping two hundred was seriously cutting it, and he had two passengers in the back.

Smith had already won, of course. Strife was nowhere near-

The flash of silver in the corner of his eye made him turn his head, and Smith blinked in surprise; Strife pushed ahead, giving him a mock salute.

What the _fuck_.

"Smith," Ross said loudly, sounding a bit nervous.

Then Strife spun the steering; Smith watched as the car turned perfectly down a side street, screeching tires and smoke aside.

"SMITH!" This time, both Ross and Nano yelled his name; the roadblock was a block away, and Smith hit the brakes, spinning the wheel. The car screeched louder than Strife's but did a complete one-eighty and Smith used the momentum to keep the car moving back the way they came, gently bringing it back to speed.

How the _fuck_ did Strife overtake him? That sedan was not a year beyond 2012, and it looked like Strife picked it up for less than ten grand at a second hand dealers, for fucks's sake!

It was completely possible that Strife put as much work into his car as Smith did, considering it was polished to a point where it shimmered in the light, but Smith put that thought out of his mind. No one was better at cars than he was, he thought stubbornly.

This was gonna cause a problem. First, Strife broke his nose. Then, Strife kidnapped Trott. Now, Strife beat him at his own game.

But he had slightly bigger problems right now.

"Alex Smith," Nano's voice was oh so quiet; it reminded Smith of the old schoolteachers he'd irritated past the point of yelling. "Can I just say, what the _fuck_ -"

"Oh, shut it," He snorted. "You're alive, aren't you?"

Ross had a look on his face that said _Smith, Smith you asshole, shut up, shut up now,_ but speed and  adrenaline made Smith a lot more reckless than usual.

"Never mind the fact that you miraculously pulled us out of that deathtrap," Nano spat. "But I didn't get into this car to get turned into fucking scrap metal!"

Smith pulled over so he could turn and glare at her. "Would you chill out for like, five seconds and maybe stop sitting on that goddamn stick you've got shoved up your ass?"

Ross leaned back into his seat, as far away from Nano as physically possible, a hand attempting to cover the smile creeping across his lips.

"Do you wanna fucking go?" Nano hissed, with a look in her eye that said she was going to rip his head off with her bare hands.

"Why is that your response to everything?" Smith said, completely nonchalant. "Do you not have any better comebacks? Is your creativity that lacking?"

Ross turned a bark of laughter into a very convincing cough.

"Better comebacks?" Nano was so angry that she didn't look angry anymore. We've come full circle, Smith thought, grinning internally. "Alright, how about this? If you don't chill the fuck out, then one of these days, your hyper-masculine impromptu drag racing fetish is gonna get us all killed!"

Ross didn't bother hiding his laughter.

"'Hyper-masculine impromptu drag racing fetish'," Smith repeated slowly.

Ross doubled over where he sat, howling.

"Oh, I get it now," Nano continued. "I get why you like going so fast. It's an analogy for how fast you go in bed! Of course!"

"Enough," Ross gasped, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm going to end up choking if you both don't stop-"

"Excuse me?" There was always a point in their arguments where Nano would turn the tables and Smith never saw it coming, no matter how in control of the argument he was. "What the fuck did you say about me?"

"I bet your sex tapes would be shorter than a vine," the final blow was delivered in Nano's trademark haughty tone while she placed all her attention into examining a fingernail.

Smith just stared at her in stunned silence.

"I think Nano won this round," Ross said, when he remembered how to breathe.

"I think that puts us at 12 to me, 2 to you?" Nano said.

Smith buried his face into the steering wheel. "The quicker we get to Trott, the quicker I can get rid of you," he said finally, starting the car.

"Well then, hop to it! We don't have all day," Nano said. "Then again, I suppose you wanted to give Strife a head start home? Not that he needs it, apparently."

Smith muttered something colourful under his breath about Nano and Strife and head starts.

In the rear view mirror, he spotted Ross adjusting his seat belt, wiping away tears of laughter that replaced the lines of stress and worry etched into his face. Ross caught his eye and smiled a proper smile, not the half-assed smile that looked more like a wince.

Smith didn't mind Nano mopping the floor with him, if it made Ross smile like that.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tapped out the message and sent it to Ross, before crossing the street. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she took a quick look at the eloquent, incredibly helpful, "Well, fuck." that Ross had sent her.  
> They were lucky she was so good at improvising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got exams for the rest of week so here I am, posting fic  
> Basically I won't be updating this for the next four days :')

Strife hadn't been in the city long, but there were three things he scoped out the moment he reached.

First, a nice apartment. Strife had spent far too many years living in run down places that barely had enough space for a single bed, let alone any other bits and pieces of furniture. He liked decorating, he liked having a running theme and matching furniture, even if he was only there for a couple of months at most. The mix and matched apartments he'd had to settle with played on his aesthetic nerve. So he spent the first two days in a motel, hunting for apartments - it had to be spacious, but it had to have a garage, and it had to be relatively close to the city centre, because Strife liked city living. When he found it, he realised that it was being sold; Strife could have paid for it then and there but flinging wads of cash at a real estate agent would definitely garner suspicions. So he put a down payment on it and left it at that, moving in the day he got the paperwork signed.

Second, he needed a good mechanic. One that didn't ask questions, most importantly. The problem with heists was that your getaway car was guaranteed to get messed up, and a nosy mechanic would get you busted in no time. Luckily he found one close to his new apartment, and the guy running it was young and American too; when Strife mentioned discreet fixes he winked and said that he could do discreet, especially for someone from Yoglabs Industries. Strife didn't want to pull out the "Yoglabs" card unless absolutely necessary but it slipped out in their conversation and the mechanic seemed like he didn't care for what that entailed.

Thirdly, and most importantly, Strife needed a place that served good coffee. Call it a habit, call it an addiction, but Strife needed his fix, and instant coffee would only go so far. Nilesy's place served amazing coffee, and it was a good cover, too; he'd come on the pretext of buying coffee, sit at the very back, and "forget" his bag. The bag full of the loot he'd picked up with Parv. Nilesy would take care of it, cheques hidden between the napkins left lazily on his table. Nilesy's place was also very good for shady deals because it gave them insurance. They were on good terms with Nilesy and no one would dare pull out a gun here, if negotiations went sour.

But Nilesy's place wouldn't do for this meeting. There was another cafe, right next to a busy intersection. Droves of people walked past it and Strife had Parv inform the Hats that they'd be meeting there instead.

So he bought coffee and took a seat at one of the outside tables, tucked in a corner next to a window, and he waited.

* * *

Nano waited at the bus stop with her phone in hand, flicking her eyes between the screen and the cafe opposite. She was supposed to meet Parv there to negotiate Trott's release, and honestly, it was a bit of an odd place to be discussing a hostage release.

Firstly, the place was too busy. There was a constant stream of people walking past, or through, the shop. There was no privacy here, no space for threats or violence because people would stare and make a scene. It was an infuriatingly clever move, one that she would have to write down for later.

Secondly, Parv never drank coffee. Or tea, for that matter. As far as she knew, he was a water or alcohol kinda guy. Something wasn't right here, and it was fishy enough to make her wait across the road, rather than inside the cafe.

Thirdly, it was Strife that they had seen earlier that day, and Strife was alone. It was likely that he went home, and Parv was coming, but something told her that wouldn't be the case.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she noticed the skinny blond sitting at one of the outside tables, looking around like he was waiting for someone. Yup, that was definitely Strife waiting for her, not Parvis.

_ Guys, problem. Parv isn't here, but Strife is. What now? _

She tapped out the message and sent it to Ross, before crossing the street. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she took a quick look at the eloquent, incredibly helpful, "Well, fuck." that Ross had sent her.

They were lucky she was so good at improvising.

To Ross's credit, he did send her another message, telling her to just carry on with the plan.

She rolled her eyes.

_Just be ready_ , she typed back.

Strife had noticed her now. He gave her a small wave, accompanied with a small smile. It was nice and friendly.

Nano kept a smile on her face; mentally she was frowning.

"You must be Strife," she said, when she got there.

He offered her a seat. "And you must be Nano. I've heard a lot about you."

"And I've heard a lot about you," she took the seat, her smile widening. "I heard you broke Smith's nose the other day."

"And I heard you shattered his ego into tiny little pieces."

"It's a routine thing," she shrugged. "The day isn't complete unless I've insulted him, one way or the other." She paused. "So, I was actually expecting Parvis. No offense," she added.

"None taken. Parv wasn't feeling very well. Broken bones and all. So he whined at me until I agreed to go," Strife sighed.

It was an effortless lie, one that Nano detected immediately. A corner of her lips twitched.

"I suppose he must get very whiny," she said.

"You have no idea." Strife took a sip of his coffee. "Shall we get down to business, then?"

"Of course," Nano said. "Business-" Her phone rang. "Excuse me, I have to take this call."

Strife shrugged and she got up, turned her back to him.

"Fucking assholes," Ross was on the other line, hissing. "They're not in Strife's apartment. Parv must have moved him."

"Seriously?" Nano said, loud enough for Strife to hear. "Lalna, I told you where I kept the cat food!"

"We're coming now," Ross added. "Keep him busy, we'll be five minutes."

"Yes, yes alright, fine. Top shelf. Yes. Alright, I'll see you soon."

"This feels really weird," Ross said. "It's a good plan, but really weird."

"Oh, shut up. Bye." She ended the call and sat back down.

"Lalna?" Strife asked.

Nano made a show of rolling her eyes. "I swear, he never listens to me. I told him where I kept the cat food, but no, he wasn't listening. As usual."

Strife was giving her a funny look, but she couldn't judge if he'd seen through her lie or not.

"Anyway, where were we?” Nano turned back to him. “Oh right. Business."

Keep him busy? Nano could do that.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know you're somewhat new here," she began, smiling sweetly. "But there's one thing you should know about the Hats."  
> "And that is...?"  
> Her smile widened. "They're mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is out so late! Exams are all over tho :)  
> On another note, Strife is cruisin' for a bruisin'

Maybe it was the shock of losing to Strife. Maybe the sleepless night had taken its toll. Maybe, it finally hit home, when they ripped down the door to Strife’s apartment and found it empty, albeit for a hissing cat, that Trott was really gone, and these two meant _business_.

Ross was a worrier. He’d been feeling like this since Trott was taken. Ross always expected the worst, but it didn’t make him feel any better when the worst actually happened.

“I don’t see any blood,” Ross said, trying to be optimistic. The sofa had a blanket draped on one of it arms. An empty pair of handcuffs dangled from the railing on the adjacent windowsill.

Smith picked up a vase and flung it at a wall.

Smith was worried, yes, but he was also an optimist at heart. They wouldn’t hurt Trott, they wouldn’t be able to outsmart the Hats. Nobody could outsmart the Hats.

Except, maybe, half of Yoglabs if they put their minds to it.

The Smith who woke up this morning, who challenged Strife to a race and threw shade at Nano was a Smith who believed that they were untouchable, that this was just a game, and the Hats would win. That Smith was starting to falter in his beliefs.

They’d grown so complacent in their power, Ross realised. He picked up a photo frame. Parv and Strife grinned at him from it, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders.

Ross threw the frame to the ground, ground his heel into the glass until it shattered.

“They’re not here, let’s go.”

Smith proceeded to upturn the coffee table. He ripped a bookshelf from the wall, watched it hit the ground with a thunderous thud.

“Smith.”

Smith threw his keys to Ross. “You drive.”

Smith mostly refused to let him or Trott drive his car. Either they stepped on the gas too hard, or braked to hard, or twisted the steering wheel too hard.

Ross ran a finger over the keys. This was definitely the other Smith, the one that delivered headshots without so much as batting an eyelid, the one that hit first, and asked questions while delivering a second round of hits.

“Alright,” he said. Who was he to curb bloodlust? Ross felt like spilling blood, too. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Nano reached across the table and took one of Strife's hands.

He raised an eyebrow, but allowed it.

To anyone watching, they looked like a couple at a cafe, holding hands, as innocent as could be.

Nano had done her nails the other day. She liked keeping them long and pointy, and she delicately pressed the tip of one into the soft flesh of his palm.

Strife stayed silent, but he eyed her like she had a gun aimed at his head.

"I know you're somewhat new here," she began, smiling sweetly. "But there's one thing you should know about the Hats."

"And that is...?"

Her smile widened. "They're _mine_."

Strife blinked.

"If there's anyone that gets to mess with them, it's going to be me," She continued. "So hand Trott back now, and I'll forget this ever happened. You know, I'm quite forgiving, especially to people who don't know better."

Strife sighed. "Really, they way you all keep talking, you'd think I was born yesterday."

Nano raised an eyebrow.

"I might be new to this city," Strife said casually. "I'm not new to this game."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that I'm going to keep Trott for as long as we need."

"Did you know that Parvis is afraid of me?"

"Did you know that I don't care?"

She was practically clawing his hand now. "Look," she said. "Don't make this any uglier than it needs to be."

"It's simple," Strife said. "We're going to keep Trott until we no longer need the insurance. And then we'll give him back, good as new. So why don't you run along to _your boys_ -" there was a mocking lilt to those words, one that made her grind her teeth. "- and tell them that for us?"

Once again Nano cursed the fact that this was such a public place. She could really see herself pulling out one of her throwing knives and stabbing it into his neck.

"You'll give them my message, won't you?" Strife was all sweetness.

"Swear that you won't hurt him." It wasn't defeat, no. It would only be defeat if they made it to the end of the day without Trott.

"I swear."

"Swear it on Parvis."

"I swear, on Parvis, that we won't hurt Trott."

Nano spotted Smith's car at the intersection. She watched Smith get out of the passenger's seat and make a beeline for them.

"That's all I needed," She let go of his hand, and Strife rubbed at the marks left by her fingernails.

"I'm glad we had this talk," Strife said.

Nano grinned, all teeth. Smith was just across the street now.

"I'm glad we did, too."

Strife noticed the way she was grinning and turned. He saw Smith glaring daggers at him from across the street, he saw Ross in the car.

Strife stood up very quickly.

"They're all dead-ends, honey, there's nowhere for you to run now," Nano said sweetly. "You sure you don't want to reconsider?"

"Oh, I have a way of getting out of sticky situations," He shot back.

"Sure you do," she winked. "I'll see you soon."

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thought you could mess with Hat Films and live, did ya?"

The moment Strife walked out the door, Parv tied Trott's hands together.

"We're leaving," he said, by way of explanation.

"Why?" Trott asked, knowing the answer. While Nano took up Strife's time, Ross and Smith were going to break down the door and get him out of here. It was a given.

Parv didn't bother answering him. Instead, he draped a hoodie across Trott's shoulders and pulled the hood low over Trott's face, before wrapping an arm around his waist.

Trott wondered if he should stall for time. Then he felt the prick of a knife, just hard enough to make him uncomfortable.

"I don't need to warn you about noise, do I?" Parv asked.

Trott shook his head.

"Great! Let's go."

Parv walked him down the stairs and into the parking lot under the building. It was morning, but the place was empty. They were the only people around.

Parvis opened the trunk. "It's not glamorous, sorry," he said.

"Do I have to?" Trott sighed.

"The quicker you get in, the quicker you can get out."

"Fine," he muttered, climbing into the trunk. It was a spacious boot, big enough that Trott could pull his knees up without feeling cramped.

"It won't take long," Parv said.

Trott still winced when he shut the boot.

* * *

The cafe had two entrances and Strife was out the back door in the blink of an eye. He wasn't entirely sure of his way around yet, but that was why he was calling Parv.

"We're fine, we made it without a hitch. You safe?" Parv said, by way of greeting.

"They're chasing me," Strife replied.

Parv swore.

"It was expected," Strife said. "Smith's on foot, Ross is driving."

"I know," Parv sighed. "Ok, stick to the alleyways. Ross can't drive down there - well, he's not skilled enough to drive down there. All the alleyways are connected, there are no dead ends."

"Fantastic," Strife said. "Where should I go?"

"The parking garage opposite your first apartment. It's got plenty of places for you to hide."

Strife thought about it for a moment. It was a few blocks away, and he already had a head start.

"Stay on the phone though," Parv said. "Just in case."

Strife kept running.

Every so often he'd catch the glimpse of Smith's car, ridiculous paint job and all, just around the corner like a warning. It was probably a really good idea he was sticking to back streets, he didn't doubt Ross running him over if he had the chance.

But he didn't spot Smith, who was following him on foot. That made him nervous, considering Smith knew his way around a lot better than Strife did.

He was nearly there, but Strife felt like his lungs were going to explode. He slowed down, ducked behind a dumpster half in shadows, and took a few deep breaths.

He had to keep going, he was nearly there.

Strife cautiously peeked out from behind the dumpster. No sign of Smith. No sign of Smith's shitty car.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and froze.

Smith waltzed out from around the corner, lazily dragging his feet along, a shotgun in both hands.

"Thought you could escape, could ya?" He said.

Out of all of the Hats, Parv had told him to be especially wary of Smith. Parv used the words, "Ten-pounds of C4 and he doesn't care who gets caught up in the blast."

Smith did look like a ticking time bomb on legs, and Strife wasn't going to be able to avoid the blast.

Strife also had the unpleasant feeling of being cornered. Sure enough, he heard the quiet purr of a car engine, and the green catastrophe had driven up, blocking the other side of the alleyway.

His phone was still in his hand. He wondered if Parv could heard this, if he was swearing on the other end.

It was useless, but Strife still attempted to pull out his gun. He heard the distinct sound of someone cocking a gun not once, but three times. He abandoned the idea, slowly raising both hands.

"I mean, I tried to give you a chance," Nano said, somewhere behind him.

"Put down the gun," Ross added.

Smith, in the meantime, dropped his gun. He walked towards Strife - long, decisive strides - and Strife braced himself.

The blow sent him reeling, and Strife would have fallen had Smith not grabbed him by the collar.

"Thought you could kidnap Trott and get away with it, could ya?" Smith continued, more aggressively than before. He cracked his knuckles across Strife's face, and Strife tasted blood.

_Unfair_ , Strife thought. _We hit Trott_ once, _and that was when we were trying to get away_.

"Thought you could mess with Hat Films and _live_ , did ya?" Smith was practically yelling now, fist drawn.

"Wait!" Strife yelled. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Smith gave him an incredulous look. "'Am I sure'? Damn right I'm sure, I haven't even broken your nose yet, asshole!"

"Well," Strife said patiently, hoping this would work. "What do you think Parv would do to Trott, when he sees what you've done to me?"

Smith froze, mid-punch; Strife felt the grip on his collar tighten.

Ross swore, somewhere behind him.

"He has a point," Nano's voice was hard as nails. "Smith, stop."

Smith swore. He started to lower his fist, and Strife let out a silent sigh of relief.

"You know what?" Smith said suddenly. "Fuck that."

"Smith, wait-" Nano began, but Smith was already swinging.

_Oh no_ , Strife thought.

Pain erupted in his left temple, and Strife felt himself blacking out.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think you're lying."  
> "Then stab me a couple of times. See if I change my tune."  
> "What if I stabbed you a couple of times, just for fun?"  
> "What if Parv stabbed Trott a couple of times? Wouldn't that be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going overseas in like two days so I'm trying to get all these chapters out asap haha  
> Also shoutout to my gurl donutcats for helping me with some of the dialogue in this part <3

For the first time since Trott had been kidnapped he genuinely felt afraid.

Strife meant him no harm. That much was obvious when he bought pizza the night before. Around Strife, Parv was as tame as a housecat; lounging on furniture, his cheerfulness somewhere between "infectious" and "annoying".

But Strife wasn't here. Strife had been ripped from his side, and Trott was watching Parv's demeanor slip.

He'd been tied to the chair before he heard the news, and now Parv was pacing, somewhere behind him. Trott had nothing but the clack of footsteps on wooden floors, footsteps that sounded upset and distressed and most of all, angry.

There were so many rumours about Parvis, none of them nice. From what Trott could gather he acted on his emotions, put his heart first.

He also liked carving people up with knives.

Trott heard Parv swear, heard the dull _thud_ of a knife hit a wall, and winced.

Trott sincerely hoped Parv wasn't about to do anything stupid.

Trott sincerely hoped that Ross and Smith were not about to do anything stupid, either.

* * *

Strife woke to blood on his lips and a pounding headache.

He tried moving his head, felt the brush of carpet against his cheek, the dizzying sense of nausea that lingered after you got punched in the head. When the feeling returned to his limbs he tried moving again, only to discover the rope biting into his wrists.

Well, fuck.

"So," the voice drifted from somewhere above him, a voice that belonged to five feet of smugness. "What was that about 'escaping from sticky situations'?"

Strife attempted to sit up, abandoning the idea when his head spun; small hands were on his arms, pushing him upright and against the wall.

He leant back, licked his lips and tasted blood, felt the crack on his bottom lip. "Well," he said. "It's not like you guys found Trott."

He could almost picture the frown on Nano's face. "Are you in any condition to be insolent right now?"

"It's my default state. I revert to it every so often."

Strife was in a room only slightly bigger than a storage closet. The shelves were stripped bare, and Nano was perched on the armrest of a chair shoved in the corner.

From the way his head was hurting, Strife guessed he had bruises. The pain was centered at his left temple, and his cheekbone throbbed like someone had swung a baseball bat at him. A baseball bat named Smith.

Nano let out a short, sharp laugh. It reminded him of the way a wolf would howl, right before ripping apart a small animal.

"Don't worry, we're not keeping you for long," Nano's smile was all teeth. "Just long enough. We need the, how did you put it? Insurance."

Strife threw her a disgusted look.

"Where's Parvis?" Nano asked, the picture of innocence.

Strife shrugged.

"What, you don't know?"

"Funnily enough, I don't."

There was a tiny knife between Nano's fingers. "Maybe you forgot."

"He didn't tell me where he was going. I asked him not to." Strife would be dammed if he let himself be turned into a pincushion on top of the irony of the situation.

"I think you're lying."

"Then stab me a couple of times. See if I change my tune."

"What if I stabbed you a couple of times, just for fun?"

"What if Parv stabbed Trott a couple of times? Wouldn't that be fun."

Nano made a face. "You are no fun."

"I'm a lot more fun in situations where I'm _not_  the hostage."

"No one is ever fun when they're the hostage."

"How surprising. I wonder why." Strife tested the ropes around his wrists, tugging at the bonds as subtly as he could. The knots were too strong, the rope pulled tight enough to hurt every time Strife tried moving.

He'd really pissed Smith off, hadn't he.

"Midnight," Nano supplied, the answer to a question he hadn't asked. "We get Trott back, and then we let you go."

Judging by the light coming through the window, it was mid-afternoon.

Strife sighed, leaning his head back.

"We've got a while to play, Strife, let's just enjoy-" Nano stopped.

"Where is he." Strife didn't see Smith storm inside, but he felt the hand around his throat, the feeling of being hoisted upright by nothing but that hand.

Even worse, he couldn't touch the ground anymore.

Strife took a deep breath. He had a feeling that those were about to become very rare.

"I don't know."

Sure enough, Smith wrapped his free hand around Strife's throat, and squeezed.

"Fucking liar. Where is he."

"I told you," Strife repeated. "I don't know."

"Listen," Smith hissed. "I have had it up to _here_ with your bullshit ok-"

"Smith." Ross was in the doorway, something along the lines of unbridled fury in his eyes. "What did I just say?"

"I'm not exactly leaving a mark, now, am I?"

"I dunno," Nano said. "Strangulation tends to leave a mark."

"Seriously?" Ross practically yelled. "Do you _want_ Parv to kill Trott?"

"If Parv kills Trott then I'll kill Strife.” Smith said it like an oath.

"You've half killed him already, Smith, stop it," Nano's voice was firm.

Smith had a mulish look on his face. He let go, and Strife slumped to the ground, gasping.

"Honestly," Strife muttered, when he'd gotten his breath back. "I fucking bought Trott pizza last night, and this is how you guys treat me. Unbelievable. Next time I'm just gonna hit him with a blunt object."

"I'll hit _you_ with a blunt object-"

"Smith." Nano and Ross said, at the same time.

Smith made a face and crossed his arms, taking the air of sulking toddler.

"And you," Nano wheeled on Strife. "Could you try not to be an asshole for like, five seconds here?”

"Tell that to Smith! It wouldn't kill him to not be a dick."

"No, but it'll kill you-"

"SMITH!"

Ross pinched his brow. "Strife if you don't shut up I'm going to tape your mouth shut."

"Ha! Take that asshole-"

"And I'm going to lock you in your room Smith, honestly, can you behave?"

Smith lost the infuriating look of glee plastered to his face. "What? No, you can't do that, we're the same age!" he spluttered.

"And you're being an ass, Smith, get out," Ross ordered.

Smith pouted. Ross raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, fine," Smith sighed. He threw Strife one last murderous look before leaving.

"Well, that was eventful," Nano said.

Ross muttered something colourful under his breath and left the room.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thanks to the amazing donutcats for helping me out with this chapter! It gets a little, uh, violent, unfortunately :')

They were at the warehouse at 11:30.

The place was dimly lit, the two lightbulbs Parv and Strife had installed were not providing as much light as Ross would have hoped.

There was a single chair, and Nano occupied it, legs crossed, a gun placed on her knee.

Ross stood next to Strife, holding him upright as much as he was holding him in place. Smith's previous blows were taking their toll, and Ross could not have his hostage on the verge of unconsciousness when Parv showed up.

"I'm fine," Strife hissed, through gritted teeth. Ross wondered if it was sheer pride keeping him awake.

Smith was pacing, pacing, pacing. It was all he ever did. Along with beating up their hostage.

Ross sighed inwardly. He wanted to beat the living shit out of Strife, too.

Maybe another day, when he least expected it. When he was alone, out buying coffee, and Ross would jump out of an alleyway and drag him into the shadows. It was a nice thought.

Strife kept mentioning about they hadn't hurt Trott, except for one hit when they were escaping, and that Parv would keep his word. Ross sincerely hoped this wasn't true.

When they heard the warehouse door open, a rusty, grating noise that made everyone wince, Smith leapt forward, standing by Strife's other shoulder. He slung an arm casually around his neck and Strife stiffened, but otherwise said nothing.

Parv marched Trott into the room, and Ross took a sharp breath.

There were bags under Trott's eyes, like he hadn't slept well; there was a yellowish bruise the size of a coin on his forehead, presumably from when they kidnapped him.

Ross shut his eyes. Nano breathed a small, "Oh no."

Smith had the decency to look slightly ashamed.

Smith had bricks for fists, and it showed, from Strife's split lip, to the mottled black and purple splashes across his cheekbone and forehead. They were lucky Strife was wearing a scarf; Smith had left bruises from when he'd almost strangled him.

Ross saw a flash of anger, and then blankness sweep over Parv's face; he'd stopped short, half in darkness, one hand on Trott's shoulder. From the way Trott was wincing, he was leaving a mark.

Smith growled, low in his throat, and Ross knew that the arm around Strife's neck was starting to tighten.

Parv took a step forward. There was something dark and primal in his eyes.

"I brought Trott," Parv said. He sounded utterly furious.

"Strife's here," Ross replied. "Give us Trott, and we'll give you Strife."

Parv stood there, a hand still on Trott's shoulder.

A moment passed.

Parv untied Trott's hands, and started to push him forward.

Ross untied Strife's hands.

Smith eyed Parvis. The other man had a look in his eye, a look that Smith was very familiar with. It was a look that screamed vengeance, it was a look of pain and anger because the person you cared about looked like they'd been hit by a bus.

It was look that said he'd had enough, that he was sick and tired of being walked all over, of never getting the last word in, of never actually winning any of his battles.

Trott was walking forward, but Smith saw something in Parvis snap.

He reached for Trott, a hand fisting in the back of his shirt, and then Trott was wrenched backwards with a cry.

_No_.

Parv pulled his lips back, conveying something too dangerous to be a snarl. "Anything you do to Strife, I do to Trott but worse- or do you just have a very shitty memory?"

"To be fair," Smith drawled. "I fucked his face up before you made that agreement. Technically, it wasn't valid." Smith kept his voice casual, but he was tense, forearm pressing into Strife’s throat.

There was the click of a gun, and then there was a barrel being pressed against Trott's head. " _To be fair_ , I don't deal in technicalities." Parv drawled, a mockery of Smith's previous statement.

Trott's eyes were screwed shut, lip caught between his teeth as he dragged in ragged breath after ragged breath, chest heaving and shoulders trembling.

Smith's fingers twitched. He felt the weight of his gun at his waist; in a flash, he was pushing the barrel under Strife’s chin.

An eye for an eye.

"Don't do anything stupid, Parvis," Nano warned. She was on her feet, gun in hand, trying to take control of a situation that was far out of her reach.

Parv mouth was a hard line; he clicked off the safety. Trott held his breath.

A single shot echoed through the warehouse.

There was a hole in Parv's chest. He looked down, abandoned Trott who leapt out of reach, and put a hand over it. Blood dribbled through his fingers.

Ross shot him again.

Parv crumpled.

" _No!_ " There was something cracking in the way Strife screamed. He lurched forward, but Smith was still holding him in place.

The five of them were silent. The puddle of blood around Parv grew larger.

"Ross," Nano started, but Ross shrugged her off. Smith moved his gun, shoved at Strife so hard he tipped forward, absorbing his fall with his shoulder.

Strife was staring at Parvis' body, laying next to a very shocked looking Trott. He scrambled forward while Trott scrambled towards them. Smith was there to catch Trott when his knees gave way.

"Let's get out of here," Trott whispered. They all shot a look backwards, but Strife was too busy hunched over Parv's body to pay them any attention.

They walked side by side, Trott in the middle, while Smith and Ross held onto his hands for dear life.

"Glad that's over, huh?" Ross said, with the ghost of a laugh.

Another gunshot echoed across the entire warehouse.

Blood started to stain the front of Ross' shirt.

He staggered, his hand slipping from Trott’s, before he collapsed.

Trott felt frozen, distant, like he wasn't physically _there_ , like he was watching this from a distance.

Smith turned with a cry; Strife was still aiming, hand steady despite the tears rolling down his cheeks. The expression on his face was not unlike what Smith had when he cornered him in that alleyway.

Strife was swaying where he knelt, and the gun clattered to the floor from his fingertips.

Trott felt his legs give way. Smith walked to Strife with decisive strides, and backhanded him. Strife took the blow like he had no intention of avoiding it, and Smith pinned him down.

"I'm really sick of you ruining my family," Smith growled, an arm across Strife's throat.

Strife glared back at him, hands clawing at Smith's arm. "An eye for an eye right? Gotta be fair."

Smith's eyes flashed, and he leaned down, putting more pressure against Strife's windpipe. "An eye? Sounds like a great idea. I'll start there first. Work my way down."

There's no way out of this, Strife thought, resigned. Parv isn't- he tried not to think of Parv, a crumpled heap on the floor; Strife was already starting to see stars flutter across his vision.

Well, he thought. I've been through worse.

"Do you think eyes regrow?" Smith asked it so casually, like he was inquiring about the weather.

Strife felt like he was about to throw up.

"Actually," Smith looked thoughtful. "That's a really good question. Never dealt with dismembering someone before. I mean, I know we can't die, but, now I'm just curious."

Strife tried to drag in as much air as he could, tried to ignore the black creeping into his vision.

He felt Smith shift, the scarf falling off his shoulders. "Oh boy, looks like I already have a guideline to go by."

Now Strife definitely wanted to throw up.

"But first..." Smith let his voice trail off, and Strife felt a the tip of a knife trail up his arm. "I mean, you'll probably be unconscious when I do it, right? Black out from the pain, and all? We can't have that just yet, we have to have a bit of _fun_ first,"

The knife burrowed into Strife's side. He allowed himself a shuddering breath.

"Oh, come on," Smith drawled. "You're allowed to scream."

He started twisting the knife. It was all Strife could do but _not_ scream.

Smith removed the knife, clearly disappointed on the lackluster reaction, and slipped it between his ribs instead.

Strife had a vision of his feet tied together and weighed down with rocks, of a man on the docks, silently plunging a knife into him again and again and again-

"Enough." Trott's voice is quiet, but Smith heard it clearly. It drifted up from where Ross was laying, a small, but decisive command.

Smith stopped.

"Let's just, let's just go home," Trott sounded tired, so very tired. He was cradling Ross's head, wiping away flecks of blood from his cheek.

Smith paused, pushing the knife in deeper. Trott pushed himself off the ground, stalking over to them.

He practically ripped him off of Strife, pulled at his shoulders until Smith finally let up.

"Let's go. We're going home."

Trott dragged Smith away, leaving Strife gasping on the ground.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An aftermath, of sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it kids we climbed this mountain  
> Mentions of a panic attack in this part just fyi

Nano watched the Hats walk out.

Trott walked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Smith had Ross draped over his back.

Nano liked tagging along with the boys; they made her feel included.

She was clearly not included here.

Nano bit the inside of her cheek. There was something they had, something she never would. She could see it in the way they walked together, the way Smith and Trott acted like something was missing. Trott kept inching to the right, like he was subconsciously making room for a third person on his left.

It was painful to watch.

Instead Nano walked over to the duo who caused this mess.

Much to her surprise, Strife was still alive. He had his eyes squeezed shut, but the small, raspy breaths he was taking was a dead giveaway.

"Oh," she said. "You're still alive."

Strife's eyes flew open. "Are you going to kill me?"

Nano paused. "Nah."

He shut his eyes. "Cool."

Parv was most definitely dead, she mused. The time always varied but they had about an hour before the immortality really kicked in and Parv shot upright, alive and awake and kicking.

Strife's wounds seemed minor, by comparison. Flesh wounds, inflicted to cause pain rather than death.

"Come on," she said, after a moment. "We have to get Parv to your apartment - or mine," she added hastily, wondering how badly Smith and Ross had trashed Strife's apartment.

Strife didn't move.

"Get up," she said, not unkindly.

Strife shook his head. "I don't need you."

"Yes, you do," Nano said.

"Did you get kicked out of the Hats' club? Shouldn't you be there, holding their hands?" There was no kick to his words.

"I felt bad," she said simply.

There was a pause. "I feel bad, too."

"Come on," Nano said, after a moment. "We can't have Parv waking up in a puddle of his own blood. It's not a very nice feeling."

Strife's eyes are still squeezed shut. "I can't," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

"I think," he tried to take a breath. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

"Strife," Nano said, gently. "You're safe here, they're gone."

"It's not that," he whispered. "I just- I'm here but I'm not here, I'm back _there_ , and _he's_ there, and-"

"Strife." She repeated. Gentle, but firm. "You're not there, you're here. Whoever he is, he's not here. He's gone, and you're safe, ok?"

Strife sucked in a deep breath.

"He's gone. You're safe."

Nano calmed him down, slowed his breathing down. Strife opened his eyes again.

Wordlessly she helped him up, then she helped him pull Parv up.

"Parv's car is probably around the corner," she supplied. She didn't ask who 'he' was. Strife didn't broach the topic again.

She helped Strife put Parv in the backseat. Strife was definitely not up to driving; he was swaying where he stood, the bruises on his face standing out against bone white skin.

“I’m taking you back to my apartment,” she said. Strife sat in the back seat, Parv’s head in his lap.

“Ok.”

“Lalna’s not at home, he’s out of town for some business,” Nano said. Strife leaned his head against the window. “My place isn’t too shabby, if I may say so myself.”

“How badly did they trash my apartment?” Strife asked, a little hoarse.

“You know Smith - well, you _sorta_ know Smith. He likes hitting things. So does Ross. I wouldn’t wager that they left your apartment spotless.”

Strife groaned.

“Hey, it was a solid plan!” Nano said. “What you guys thought up. It would have worked on anyone else. You’d have played Lalna like a fiddle if you’d taken me, and if you’d taken Lalna, well-”

“I doubt that would have worked on you.”

“Oh, no. I’d be as angry as Smith. Less unpredictable, though.” She made a face. “That’s their problem. Too wild, too unpredictable.”

“And we paid for it.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally. It’s not a proper introduction until the Hats try and kill you.”

Strife smoothed Parv’s hair. “They did kind of succeed, there.” He said sadly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue, of sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for friendship tbh

“I don’t see why we need to be apologizing,” Smith sounded churlish, arms folded and pouting.

“Firstly, you two need lessons in hostage negotiations. Secondly, you probably shouldn’t have shot Parvis, we all knew he was bluffing. And Smith? You definitely should not have hit Strife that many times.”

Ross, at least, had the decency to look a little bit ashamed about what had happened. Smith rolled his eyes. It reminded Trott of the phrase, ‘In one ear and out the other.’

If this was what parenting was like, Trott would have to politely refuse.

Trott stood at the splintered door. “Jesus, you guys did that?”

“Oh, they fixed it back up,” Smith said.

“I’m kind of flattered that you’d break down a door for me,” Trott mused.

“We did a lot more than break down a door,” Ross added, after a moment.

All three of them went quiet, remembering the look on Parv’s face when Ross shot him.

They’d rushed home, cleaned Ross up. Immortality was one of those funny things that didn’t stick to a time frame. Once, it had taken Trott twenty minutes to sit up with a gasp; another time, it took Smith eight hours.

Ross was the kind of person who clung to his life with an iron grip. He was up in forty minutes, with a choking gasp that brought Trott and Smith running to his bedside.

Trott thought that after Ross woke up, after they established that Ross was fine, after they established that _he_ was fine, that everything would just settle back down and go back to normal.

Trott didn’t sleep for three nights in a row.

It was probably guilt driving him to try and make amends; after living for so long, guilt had a habit of silently building up and crashing over you when you least expected it, until you were sitting in the middle of the living room having some kind of breakdown, surrounded by empty bottles of wine and whiskey and God knows what else.

This whole situation reeked of an impending breakdown that Trott would do everything in his power to prevent.

“Look,” Trott said. “We probably didn’t handle this as well as we should’ve.”

“What did you expect us to do, Trott,” Smith said quietly. “They took you away.”

That was probably part of the problem.

The Hats were at the top of the food chain, the Hats sat atop their thrones, untouchable in both status and relationship. Then these two usurpers came along, and the ease at which they dismantled their thrones was unnerving.

The Hats weren’t used to serious competition, let alone someone _kidnapping_ one of them.

It wasn’t that Trott was ungrateful for what Smith and Ross did to get him back, it was just that Trott wasn’t sure he could look either Parv or Strife in the eyes again.

All three of them shared that view. There was guilt in the way Ross picked at a fingernail and there was guilt in the way Smith scuffed his foot against the floor.

Trott took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

They heard a muffled, “Coming!” followed by footsteps. The door swung open a couple of minutes later.

“Hey! Sorry about that, I was knee deep in clutter-” Strife trailed off, realising who was at the door.

Trott watched the smile slip off his face, replaced by something a lot less friendlier. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, too. The bruises on his face had lost their purple tinge, as had the ones on his neck, but they were still prominent enough to make Trott look away.

“Hi, Strife!” Trott said, trying to sound cheerful. “Do you need some help-”

Strife slammed the door shut in their faces.

“Well!” Smith said. “We tried. Let’s go home.”

Ross and Trott gave him a look. Trott knocked again.

They heard a sigh, and the door opened.

“I know we caused a _lot_ of trouble for you, but can we help you clean up?” Trott asked.

“I don’t need your help,” Strife said, icicles hanging off each word.

“How about this?” Trott asked, pulling out a cheque from a jacket pocket. He held it out to Strife. “It should cover the damages to your apartment.”

Strife plucked the cheque from Trott’s fingers and skimmed it. He then proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces that fluttered to the floor, before slamming the door shut again.

One of the hinges broke with the force of it.

The three of them shared a look.

“Strife,” Smith said. “I’m probably the last person you want to speak to right now, but,” he took a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you as much as I did-” Trott and Ross simultaneously elbowed him. “-I mean, _at all_ , I should not have hit you _at all_ , and you guys did take very good care of Trott while you had him, so, uh, thank you for not hurting Trott, either.”

Strife opened the door, cast a wary look at all three of them.

“I’m sorry for shooting Parv,” Ross said quietly, eyes on the ground.

Trott watched Strife hesitate, pick at a splinter in the doorframe.

“No, no, don’t apologize,” he said finally. “I did shoot you. It cancels out.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m sorry for shooting you, Ross,” Strife added.

“Apology accepted,” Ross shrugged.

“Apology accepted.” Strife smiled.

“Great! Now that we’re all friends, can we go home now?” Smith looked pointedly at Trott.

“Someone at the door?” Parv’s voice drifted from somewhere behind Strife.

Strife paused. There was a look on his face that said he had no idea how Parv was going to react to the three of them.

The Hats subconsciously inched away from the door.

Parv came into view, pausing mid-stretch when he saw who was at the door.

Strife shifted ever-so-slightly so that he was blocking the entire doorway.

Parv had a reputation that preceded him; Sips used to just mention his name in business deals and the other party would cave.

Ross and Smith didn’t really think about the consequences of pissing off a hitman like Parv when Trott was at stake, but now they were back together and Trott could feel both of them trying to hide behind him.

“Oh, hi Parv,” Trott said, trying to smile.

Parv threw him a dirty look. “Hey, Strife,” he said. “What’s that joke about the skunk and the boomerang?”

“The what?” Strife gave him an odd look.

“I can’t remember how it goes exactly, but the punchline was like, ‘A bad smell that just keeps coming back’.” He gave the Hats a pointed look.

“I don’t smell bad, this is a five hundred dollar cologne,” Smith sounded mildly offended.

“Five hundred dollars of shit,” Parv muttered. Strife tried not to laugh.

“We just came by to, uh, apologize,” Ross said, from behind Trott. Parv gave him a look. “And, uh, sorry about shooting you. But you know how it is, especially with Trott,”

“We offered to pay for the damages,” Trott added quickly.

“But Strife tore up the cheque,” Smith finished.

“How many zeros were on that cheque?” Parv asked.

“A fair amount,” Trott said. “We are generous, remember.”

Parv flicked Strife’s shoulder. “Why’d you tear it up?”

“I was mad, ok!” Strife shot back. “Also, it looked really dramatic when I did it.”

“It did look very dramatic,” Ross agreed.

“Can you rewrite the cheque?” Parv asked.

“Sorry,” Trott shrugged. “One time offer.”

“Strife!”

“What? Don’t blame _me_ for that!”

“Well, that’s fine,” Parv said. “You guys owe us, then.”

“We don’t owe you-” Smith began.

“Pizza?” Trott suggested. “We could shout you pizza?”

Parv and Strife shared a look.

“Expensive pizza?” Parv asked.

“As expensive as Pizza Hut gets, sure.”

“Alright,” Strife said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”


End file.
